


Permittance

by joydingoh



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joydingoh/pseuds/joydingoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When accepting an assassination mission in Jerusalem, Altaïr becomes aware of his feelings towards his informer- whether he's truly emotionally attached or just plain horny, he doesn't know (and quite frankly, he doesn't care).<br/>{Short story inspired by Altaïr's habit of touching people's shoulders when moving around them...}</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permittance

**Author's Note:**

> This short story is the result of too much Assassin's Creed, too much imagination, and not enough sleep. I almost feel as though I should apologise for it, but here it is all the same. Also, the way I described Al Bara' makes him sound a bit *too* young, but my intentions were that he is only slightly younger than AltaÏr and looks younger than his true age.  
> P.S- This is my first submission to this site! Hooray!

Altaïr strides with purpose through the streets of Jerusalem, certain that he will find no trouble for himself in this area of the city- that is, until he causes any. Scanning over the heads of the bustling crowd around him, he spies his informer in the distance, standing aside with his face partially covered in white cloth. Despite his identity being concealed, his wide, shifty eyes give him away, barely evading the attention of the nearby guard. The assassin plans to remind the informant of a few rules regarding staying inconspicuous when in the open- such subtle actions could quickly expose the nature of his intentions. Altaïr gently forces his way through the crowd, evading carriers of pots and other breakable goods as he advances. He stands just metres away from his informant when he recognises the youthful features of the uncovered parts of his face- the large brown eyes, smooth skin and soft brow identify this young man as Al Bara’, a hopeful member of the guild who has been said to hold high respects for his superiors, but remains rather lost with regards to his purpose within the clan. Altaïr does not know much more about him, except for the fact that he is said to be the most humble of the younger assassins. 

Altaïr stands before Al Bara’ as the informer uncovers his mouth so that he is able to talk. “Safety and peace, Master” he speaks, a voice like silk. “Have you seen all the vile Templars in town? I have been ordered to kill as many as I can before the burial of your latest victim, Majd Addin. I’m sure if it were your mission it would be done in no time. I have learned much while looking for those Templars; I will share valuable information with you when you get back.” Accepting his mission, Altaïr gives a gentle nod and turns away, preparing his blade for the taste of blood. But for the first time in many years, if ever, he finds himself entirely unfocused on the task. Instead, his attention keeps drifting back to the image of Al Bara’s soft, pouty lips which were revealed when he pulled the white cloth down from over them. The sight of his large brown eyes, which almost appeared to be begging Altaïr for something, clouds his mind, captivating in their innocence. Altaïr walks the crowded streets thinking of nothing but Al Bara’, his flow of imagination only broken by the sight of a red helmet in the distance. Forcing himself to get his head together, Altaïr shakes all thoughts from his mind and focuses on the target while remaining acutely aware of his surroundings. Sneaking up from behind, he simultaneously pulls the Templar towards him and drives the blade through his back, leaving him stumbling and gagging on his own blood as the assassin walks away freely, apparently oblivious to the damage he had caused. The other targets soon follow, Altaïr killing them with relative ease as he swiftly dispatches each with the sharp blade on his wrist. The way the knife slices between bone and muscle to reach the heart of each victim is beautiful in the sense that it is to be respected, a power that Altaïr does not often take lightly. 

Moving briskly away from the last dying body, the assassin suddenly becomes aware of his excitement to see the informant again. He finds he is rushing not to escape the attention of the guards, but to meet those pleading eyes once more, to hear the smooth tones of Al Bara’s voice flow from his soft lips. This feeling almost scares Altaïr; the only joy he ever receives from meeting people these days is when he finally catches his next victim, and even then it’s only because his task can be completed and peace restored. Taking the life of another is not something to enjoy. But this excitement is different. He finds himself wanting to spend time with this man, to embrace his company. Feelings of emotional attachment this strong are alien to good assassins as it only sets up for disappointment and difficult relationships- this Altaïr knows, and it is one of the reasons why his emotions scare him. Yet when he sees the informer again, waiting in the shadows on the other end of the street, all his worries and doubts are quickly swept from his mind. He approaches the man with determination in his stride, locking his eyes on him as he pushes through the crowd. 

“I know now why I joined our clan. Just to be in your presence is a gift from God” Al Bara’s smooth voice flows. “This is what I have learned about Robert's men- they are well prepared for battle. To fight them all at once would be unwise. Better to let them chase you for a while before striking back.” His eyes suddenly widen and he quickly turns his attention to his feet in shame. “But it is disrespectful for me to tell a Master how he should behave in combat. Forgive me, Master.” Altaïr places a hand on his shoulder, his usual act of appreciation for the details informants give him. But when Al Bara’ looks up meet to his eyes, the assassin finds his left hand reaching for the other shoulder. The trusting informer, while at first slightly shocked at Altaïr’s actions, submits to his superior in curiosity of where it will lead to. Altaïr gently guides Al Bara’ backwards so that the younger man’s back rests against the rocky wall hidden in the shadows. With a cold stare and mischievous smirk, Altaïr runs his hands along the informer’s torso, causing the slightly younger man to flinch in surprise. Not knowing what to do, he stands still and allows the assassin to roughly caress him, first starting with his torso, then moving lower until Al Bara’ enjoys Altaïr’s hands moving along his hips. Guiltily letting out a soft noise of pleasure and nervousness, the informer is quickly turned upon by the assassin who leans in close, their chests touching. “Stop whimpering. A true assassin never shows any sign of weakness” Altaïr hisses in Al Bara’s ear, his groins on fire as he resists the temptation to reach below and relieve himself of the rising tension which is already becoming unbearable.

“Y-yes, Master” the informer replies between silent gasps, already becoming weak at the knees. Altaïr broadens his grin, pressing himself in closer and running his hands down Al Bara’s back, his palms resting on his arse and fingers grasping both cheeks tightly. The informant finally finds the courage to hold Altaïr around the waist, mostly for support as the experience weakens his knees, but also as a way of expressing his appreciation for the assassin’s actions, even though he’s a little uncomfortable with the speed at which they’re progressing. Altaïr returns the favour by forcefully slamming his body into Al Bara’, pressing him roughly against the wall as he breathes on the informer’s neck. The assassin then begins to grind his hips against him, feeling the both of them steadily harden as he resists the urge to bite Al Bara’s exposed neck. The tension reaches near-breaking point and Altaïr can tell that he’s moving through the moment way too quickly for the informer, but that doesn’t stop him. One of his hands strays from Al Bara’s behind as their lengths rub against each other through their clothing, reaching for the informant’s rigid member as he lazily trails his tongue along his bronze neck. Suddenly his wrist is tightly clasped before it can reach its target, causing Altaïr to scowl as he’s about to snap at the informant. However, he realises that it was not Al Bara’ who cut the scene short when a second hand firmly grips his shoulder, spinning him around.

“Indecent activities on the public streets? I don’t think so” the guard growls as he turns Altaïr to face him. “Hey! This is the man we’re looking for! Get him!” he yells to his fellow armour-clad guards, unsheathing his sword. “And don’t let the other one get away either!” At this, Altaïr lets his weapon drop back in its sheathe and grabs Al Bara’s arm, rushing him out of the dark corner and pulling him into the crowded streets.

“Go! Run!” he yells as he pushes the informant away, sacrificing himself for his safety. Before Altaïr gets the chance to take out his sword, a guard’s blade swiftly cuts through his arm, drawing crimson blood which stains his assassin’s robes. His cry of pain causes Al Bara’ to stop in his tracks, looking back to his superior as he is knocked to the floor. He takes a quick step forward to help, but Altaïr silently voices the word ' _go_ ’ once more, forcing the informer to leave him behind as he flees. A guard lifts the assassin off the floor by the collar of his hood, providing Altaïr with a second to watch as Al Bara’ runs off in the distance, eventually blending in with the crowd. His heart falls heavy with despair as he realises that it will be some time before they can meet again, but as he’s dropped to the floor and kicked in the stomach, his sadness rapidly turns to anger. And then the bloodshed began.


End file.
